


The Wrap Party

by Sile001



Category: Outlander (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-07-13 02:30:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7134992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sile001/pseuds/Sile001
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagined scenario of events before, during and after the wrap party after shooting of Outlander Season One ended in 2014.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wrap Party

It had been a difficult day. As Claire, Cait had watched as Sam, in his role as Jamie, had been subjected to the most dreadful physical and psychological abuse she could never wish to see. It hadn’t taken a great leap of imagination to portray Claire’s heartbreak at the parting from the man who was the love of her life as he faced his ordeal in the stinking hell of Wentworth.

Later, in her trailer, Cait couldn’t settle. She pottered about, moving her treasures and photos from one place to another. She paused, smiling at the shadow selfie of herself and Sam. So long ago, yet only a year in actuality. They’d come a long way since then. Normally, she’d have gone to Sam’s trailer to tease him with cakes and goodies sent to them by fans. Now, though …  
‘Oh do get a grip, Balfe! It’s fiction. No actor was harmed etc, etc.,' but she knew this wasn’t the case. If she was having nightmares, God knows what Sam was dealing with.  
She’d noticed he’d been withdrawn as he immersed himself into this new version of Jamie Fraser. She missed his ready smile, his teasing on set.

‘For God’s sake, go and see him. He can only say "Leave me alone." Cait chose not to think of how hurt she would be if that happened.  
Sam opened the door at her second knock. His hair was still wet from his shower, his face drawn and tired yet he still smiled at the sight of his visitor.  
'Come in, Cait. You timed that just right,' He winked, mischievously.  
'I wasn’t sure … I mean …’  
'Cait?’ Sam was puzzled at her unusual diffidence. 'What’s wrong?’  
'Well, the last week or so - it’s not been easy. I’ve been - well - worried.’

Sam sat on the small couch and patted the seat beside him. 'Come here.’  
As Cait sat, he drew her close to him. 'I’ll not disagree there, hon, about those scenes. How about you?’ He drew back to scrutinise her face, his intent blue gaze concerned.  
'Nightmares.’ Cait’s reply was succinct.  
'Poor love.’ Sam butterflied kisses on her hair. 'And now?’  
'Still happening. Though worst of all, I missed you. It’s not been the same. You haven’t even walloped me lately or fallen over. Fuck, I hate Tobias!’ 

A deep chuckle sounded in Sam’s chest. 'Best not tell him that. He is your first husband, after all. As for the other, I could rectify that, you know.’ He sobered. 'I understand about the nightmares though. I’ve had a few myself. I’m not in a very sociable mood just now either.’  
'You want me to go?’ Cait half-rose from the seat and was pulled forcibly back into Sam’s arms.  
'You, Miss Balfe, are going nowhere. I need you with me at this wrap party tonight, though I’d far rather stay home.’  
'I never thought I’d hear you say anything like that, Heughan,’ Cait grinned. 'I’ll go with you. We can get wasted together.’  
'Excellent. And afterwards?’ Sam’s leer reduced Cait to giggles.  
'We’ll have to see about that - whether you’re still standing.’ She was crushed in another forceful embrace as Sam breathed in her ear: 'Oh, I can guarantee something will be standing …’

Sam usually was in his element when all the Outlander ‘Family’ had some rare time together to enjoy themselves. They were all different, but somehow, over the months, they’d all ‘gelled’ and much fun was to be had, especially once a few beers or whiskies had been downed.  
Tonight was different. He and Cait had entered the room set aside for the wrap party organised by Ron, Ira and Maril. Skipinnish, a favourite ceilidh band, were setting up onstage. Tables were set with every type of food and a bar was in business. Sam’s headache increased. He straightened, consciously bracing himself to be his usual super-sociable self. He could do this, if only Cait stayed nearby.

‘Sam! What are you doin’ arriving late? Get over here. Time to get your mojo on, fella.’ Ira thrust a whisky into Sam’s hand. ‘You up for karaoke? Cait’s doing a spot later.’  
‘Ira, you know my voice isn’t up to singing. I’ll listen to the experts, eh, Cait? Cait?’  
Sam registered that she had been dragooned by Grant, Duncan and Stephen who were exchanging filthy jokes a few feet away. They were approached by Tobias who’d been standing unobtrusively at the far side of the room.  
_'Keep your fucking hands off her, you bastard!’_  
Sam took a deep breath as he realised, thankfully, that he hadn’t spoken aloud. He turned to Ira:  
Definitely a “no” for the karaoke. Maybe dancing later, though. See how I feel.’

'Okay, pal. We’ll be eating soon, anyway.’ Ira’s thoughtful gaze followed Sam’s progress as he joined the others.  
Had he known, Sam couldn’t have cared less about Ira’s speculations. He had to get to Cait. He felt strangely lost without her nearby.  
'Hey, Sam, we’re havin’ a grand night, and it’s early yet.’ Grant beamed. 'Good to let yer hair down - though I can’t answer for Gary and Graham in that department.’  
'Watch yourself, you’ll be put to tending the pigs if they hear you saying that,’ Cait giggled, using her best Claire voice.  
'Will you be ready to return to the twentieth century now, Mrs Randall?’ Tobias’ slightly sardonic tone contrasted with the others’ earthy humour. Nevertheless, his grin was engaging.

'Hot baths? Cars? Hmmm …’ Cait paused, pretending to consider her answer. She was startled as she glanced at Sam. He looked odd, that dark, introspective expression in his eyes. 'Sam, what would you do?’ She tried to lighten his mood.  
He bent slightly to speak to her.  
'I’m going outside for some fresh air. Won’t be long.’ He left, leaving Cait and the others nonplussed.  
I’ll go and have a word with him,’ Cait set off and was halted by Tobias.  
'Stay here, Caitriona. I’ll see if he’s okay.’ He smiled slightly. 'Don’t worry.’

Sam stood, taking in great lungfuls of air. His knuckles stung from the grazes he’d sustained from punching the brick wall behind him. Christ, but he wanted to do something, anything to get rid of this darkness. He couldn’t remember ever feeling like this in over ten years of acting.  
He knew, though, it was more than that. _Cait. Caitriona. Caitriona Balfe._ It was her. He loved her. Had done from the off, had he but known it. What he wasn’t sure of was how she felt about him.  
Oh, they got on famously on and off set. Usually.  
Usually, the feel of her arms around him calmed something within him. He sensed he had the same effect on her, but was it enough?

Was it enough to want her till he was one giant ache? Thank God he could work out his frustrations at the gym or by climbing mountains.  
Then there was the last few weeks. Weeks during which he’d had to plumb the depths of himself. He didn’t like what he’d discovered.  
The upshot was, Jamie Fraser’s feeling of unworthiness of Claire matched Sam’s own in respect of Cait.  
'I’ll fuck off to somewhere where no-one knows me. Either that or go to a psychiatrist.’

'A bad sign, talking to yourself, Sam.’ Tobias’ voice pulled him from his reverie.  
'I’m okay. Go back inside.’ He tried not to recoil from the man who was a friend.  
'I’ve been where you are.’ Tobias continued as though Sam hadn’t spoken. 'One of my first roles. I became so immersed in how I felt, my cast mates called me “The Grim Reaper.”’ He chuckled, then spoke levelly:  
'Let Cait comfort you, Sam. She’s worried sick. We don’t want you to suffer. Go on, get back to her, have a whisky or two …’  
'All right, all right, I get the message. I guess I have been a miserable idiot, aye.’ Sam grinned ruefully.  
‘You could say that. And if you need to talk …’ Tobias clapped Sam on the shoulder. 'Now, go and speak to Cait.’

Sam and Tobias rejoined the others. Grant, Stephen and Duncan were guffawing at yet another series of off-colour jokes. There was a steady queue growing at the buffet tables while Skipinnish got the night underway with ‘Walking on The Waves.’ Sam glanced around.  
‘Where’s Cait?’ He tried to keep the concern from his voice; he wanted to explain, to reassure her - and himself - that everything would be all right.  
'She’s over natterin’ with Maril,’ Stephen grinned. 'You know when women get together. Mind they don’t rope you into something over the holidays, eh?’ He winked lewdly, morphing into his character as Angus Mhor.  
Sam stifled a curse. He wasn’t in the mood for innuendo. That could wait till he and Cait were alone and he’d put things right.  
'Well, I’m not fussed about rope at the minute. Too much of that recently. I’m off to the bar.’  
'What’s up with him?’ Stephen was indignant. 'Moody sod.’  
'Leave it, mate. Sam’s got stuff he needs to sort out.’ Duncan’s tone was quiet but decisive. 'What was that joke you were telling us?’

Cait paid half a mind to Maril’s suggestions about holidays. She was worried. Sam was definitely not happy and she wanted to do all she could for him. Excusing herself, she headed for the exit which Sam and Tobias had used. God, she felt lost.  
'This is what happens when you fall for a guy, Balfe. Won’t you ever learn?’ Pacing angrily along the pavement, she didn’t hear the approaching footsteps.  
'Cait, I’ve been looking for you.’ Sam didn’t realise it, but he sounded angry and possessive.  
Cait faced him, hands on hips, a combative glint in her eyes.  
'So you’ve found me. Look, Sam, we’d come to have a fun night with our friends. You’ve been like a fucking thundercloud with a migraine. Say what you’ve got to say and get it over with!’  
'I need …’ He wasn’t allowed to continue.  
'You need?’ Cait turned away, her next words barely audible. 'l need to know you’re okay. I’m a fucking fool. I should have flown to LA after we’d finished work.’

'Christ, hon, I’m sorry. So sorry.’ Sam pulled Cait to him, kissing her forehead. 'Tobias more or less implied I was a selfish git. He’s right. I’ve been wallowing in self-pity and dragging you with me. Shall we leave, get a takeout and go to mine? I promise not to sulk anymore.’ Sam smiled, a little uncertainly.  
Cait was silent for a few moments before nodding slightly.  
'All right. We do need to talk a bit though.’ Like Sam’s, her grin wavered.

'Come on. We’ll get a taxi. Unless you want to walk?’ Sam glanced appreciatively at Cait’s high heeled boots. 'Very nice!’  
'We’ll get a cab. I’m not crippling myself for you, Heughan, you bloody smarmer you!’ This time, Cait gave Sam a genuine smile, receiving a crushing hug in return.  
'That’s my Cait who I know and love. Any ideas as to what to have to eat?’ Sam’s expression was innocent. His gaze definitely was not.


End file.
